Promotion
by ZBBZL
Summary: Once, he was just a pawn in her life. Now, she just doesn't know how she can win this game without him. Set after the season 3 finale.


**Title : Promotion  
Timeline : set after the events of season finale, "**_**Sans **__**voir**_**"  
Disclaimer : Not mine, obviously.**

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_Promotion : chess rule; transformation of a pawn that reaches its eighth rank, crossing the entire chessboard,  
into the player's choice of a queen, knight, rook or bishop of the same color._

* * *

"Kens, I swear, if you don't open the door, I'll pick your lock. You know I can do it", he calls through her door, his forehead touching it, his eyes closed from exhaustion and rising irritation. "_Please_, Kensi. Do not force me to do it."

She does perfectly know it, and it's the only reason why she walks to the door. Because there's certainly _no_ part of her who wants to see him; needs to. She has ignored his every call or knock on the door for two whole days and she has been just fine on her own.

Yeah, _fine_.

"I'm not going, Deeks", she groans as she steps aside to let him in. She lets her eyes drift on his outfit, taking in his dark shirt, tie and pants. "Why are you wearing your uniform ? I didn't even know you owned one."

He doesn't answer. His eyes linger on her for some time: her pale and tired features, the dark rings under her eyes; her nails, so short from her biting on them. She is wearing a loose t-shirt and jeans that are either too big for her, or she must have lost a couple of pounds since the last time he's seen her. It wouldn't surprise him, because one look around tells him that she must have been busy, these days.

Her knuckles are red, probably from beating the shit out of the punching bag he knows to be in her guest room. Bare hands. And her place is even messier than usual, because she seems to have spent her time searching through her files and papers, and she didn't bother tidying after. There's a paper board in the middle of her living-room, filled with underlined, circled or crossed names of people he has never heard about.

One does ring a bell, though. "Steve McGarrett ? Isn't he the team leader of the Five-0 task force ?", he asks, visibly intrigued. "Who are the others ?"

"People who owe me one. Everyone I know in the Navy. People I've worked for, people who worked with my Dad…"

"And what does the code mean ?"

"Crossed ones are those who can't help me. Underlined ones are those who don't _want_ to, and circled ones the rare few I can convince", she shrugs, turning her back to him as she crosses another name on the board. "Stupid bastard…", she mutters.

"Okay, could you clarify something for me here ?", he asks softly, reaching for her with his hand, but she flinches under his touch. He doesn't let it unsettle him, though. "Kens. Help you with what ?"

She glares at him, her eyes reflecting the anger and something that comes too close to hatred right now. "With Callen, obviously", she spits through gritted teeth.

"Look, Kens, there's nothing you –"

"At least _I_ am trying!", she yells, her hands closing in fists at her sides. "God, Deeks! Hetty's gone God only knows where, Callen has been arrested…Am I the only one to see just how screwed we are ? Someone _has_ to do something!"

He wants to yell, too. Who does she think she is, telling him that ? And who does she think _he_ is, just some other guy who isn't concerned about everything that happened ? But he remains calm, breathing in and out before he speaks again, his voice low and just above a whisper. "He's my friend too, Kens. But today is not about him, you know that."

She hates him right now; hates how his deep blue eyes are so serene and reassuring they could bring her to believe him. Let him _comfort_ her, even. Those eyes could make her do or say just about anything, and the way they're staring at her now, any trace of the unfair anger she has just directed at him absent in his tender gaze, is just too much for her to handle.

But she won't break down, no. Not in front of him, not once today is over and she's back to her place, alone again. No. Callen doesn't need her to be broken and confused and hurt; he needs her to do something. What she's best at: investigating, solving his case. He needs her to try her best, and it doesn't imply crying her heart out.

It surely doesn't imply letting her partner hold her close and tell her everything is going to be fine, because like hell it will. Everything is so _damn_ far away from fine. And she doesn't care if it's what Deeks wants to do, because she can't be this little, sad girl anymore.

God, the worst thing is that she doesn't even know if she cares about what he _needs_ right now.

All she can think about is getting Callen out of this mess, without Hetty, apparently, since they haven't heard from her or seen her since his arrest. Part of her wants to believe she's doing something, anything out there, to help him; but then, why would she do it alone ?

It doesn't cross her mind that she's doing the very same thing.

"I'll help you, Kens. I promise. Once the day is over, I'll bring you back here and help you. Make all the calls you want, go and see whoever you want. But right now, you're going to change. We're out in thirty minutes."

She doesn't move, so he sighs and heads to her bedroom. She doesn't even protest when he rummages through her clothes, emptying her wardrobe, looking for something she can put on. He finally settles on a black dress that is nothing sort of revealing or alluring; it's just a little long-sleeved black dress that goes to the knees, and he just can't picture on which occasions Kensi could wear it. It's nothing like her.

But then he guesses she might keep it for this kind of days.

He tucks it in her hands and pushes her towards her bathroom door, shutting it down behind her. He hears water running and the sound of the curtain of the shower being pulled, so he walks back to her living-room, slumping onto her couch. Any other day, he'd make the most of being alone here to clean and tidy up, but right now, he's just too exhausted to care about her hoarding disorder.

He had expected it, anyway. Two days locked up in her place would do that to his partner, two whole days refusing to see him, answering his calls or texts, or anyone's, actually. He knows Sam and Nell tried too, and he had Eric track down the GPS in her phone to know her every move, just in case.

Nell is the second worst, after Kensi. It's not the same kind of bad, though. Nell is easier to deal with in a way, though he loathes nothing more than tears; at least, she shows her feelings. She's worrying herself sick over Callen and Hetty and everyone, really, and though Eric spends his days trying to take care of her, they all know that it's been one hell for him too; having to sit there in OSP while watching Callen being arrested, unable to do a thing.

Kensi hadn't said a thing, because she went home immediately after Granger allowed them too.

She interrupts his dark thoughts moments later as she appears at her bedroom doorstep, holding her still damp hair up in one hand. "Could you help me with the zipper, please ?"

He walks to her and she turns around, presenting him with her bare back, the zipper pulled up somewhere around just under her bra strap. He pulls it all the way up, and then, boldness be blamed, or the simple fact that he hasn't seen her or touched her in two days – two excruciatingly slow and terrible days, he smoothes his hands on her arms, the velvet-like feeling of the fabric of her dress soft under his palms. And he doesn't miss the slight shiver running through her body as he does so. From cold or his touch, from anger or sadness, he doesn't know; and frankly, he doesn't care.

He doesn't want her to tremble, because he knows she hates herself right now for doing so.

"I have my jacket in the car if you want", he says softly as he snaps the clasp of the necklace she just handed him. "I don't want you to catch a cold."

"It's warm out there", she replies, her voice just as low as him, so low it comes out as just above a whisper. "It's a beautiful day…"

Indeed it is. A beautiful day, a sunny, warm day just like it happens so many times in Los Angeles. A day way too beautiful to bury two of their own.

"You promise you'll bring me back right after it's over ?", she asks him, her brown, resolute eyes finding his, still so calm and damn beautiful she could just lose it right there and then; settling against his chest, letting him run his hands over her body, soothing the pain and the ache away.

She could, maybe a part of her wants to, but they both know damn well she won't.

"Did I ever break any of my promises ?", he asks back, one hand lifting to tuck a damp curl behind her ear, surprise clear in his eyes when she lets him do so. "I'm not trying to make you do something you don't want, Kens. It's just – in a few days, or weeks, you're gonna realize that you're not being yourself right now. And it's okay. It's okay to be angry and hurt, Kens. But…if you wanna be sad and hate the world, just do it with me. I need you there, with me, Kens. Maybe you think right now you don't want to go, but if you don't, you'll regret it. And I _can't_ go without you."

She bites her lip, the last thing separating her from becoming that girl who lets the walls crumble apart, her resolve shaking and weakening by the minute. She bites so hard that his hands fly to her mouth, his fingers cradling her jaw as his thumbs make their way up, tracing her bottom lip and gently parting her swollen lips. "It's okay not to be okay, Kens."

No, it's not. It _can't_ be. Because if she does let the walls crumble, all hell is going to break loose. She knows she won't be able to stop crying, or screaming at the top of her lungs, burying her head in his chest and never letting go of him; her hands clenched in his shirt, her body wrecked by the sobs threatening to make her chest and heart explode.

She just knows how easy it would be, and how _good_ it would feel. His dear scent invading her, surrounding her; his arms wrapped around her, protecting her from the outside, from _herself_. It's Deeks and God knows if she doesn't want to need him right there with her.

It doesn't prevent her from wanting him this bad.

Just like he just wants to hold her close and never let go, because he has spent days replaying the scene in his head, and his mind keeps playing that trick on him, replacing Renko's bloody body on the floor with hers.

He's seen her die in his head and nightmares so many times, that he can't count just how many times he has been startled awake in the middle of the night, sweating and shaking. And this, for the past couple of days _only_.

Had the Chameleon decided that her death would matter more to his plan, he would have just needed to shoot inches away from Renko to aim at her. And then, he would get ready to go to her funeral. Or, more precisely, he would be sleeping in jail right now, because Callen wouldn't have been the one to shoot and kill.

She sees the change in his eyes, now darker than before, so she circles her fingers around his wrist, gently squeezing there to bring him back to her. "We should get going", she says, and he quickly nods.

She settles in the passenger seat without arguing, pulling on the suit jacket he left there for her before buckling her belt. It's way too big for her, but his incredible scent there just calms her down in a way she can't quite explain. It's beyond any logical explanation, going against everything she may have said about him; but still, it's his scent on her that allows her to resist the urge to let the tears fall, that gives her some sanity to hold onto.

She turns to look at him, his hands on the steering wheel closed in tight fists, his knuckles white. He looks straight in front of him, chewing on his bottom lip, and it's only now that she realizes just how tired he looks. Even his hair, usually so golden and catching the rays of light, seems so dull now; his eyes are dark from concern and anger, too.

She wants to reach for him, but her hand stops half-way, her fingers closing in thin air before dropping back on her lap. He does see it, though.

"What are those medals for, anyway ?", she asks as she looks more closely at his uniform. She has never seen him wearing it, nor does she have seen any pictures, because as weird as it sounds coming from a guy that conceited about his good looks, Deeks doesn't love having pictures taken.

"Nothing", he shrugs off, his eyes still focused on the road.

"Come on, Deeks. LAPD doesn't give medals just because they look nice."

"I'm a cop, Kens. My job is to protect people. I shouldn't get medals because I do my job", he replies, a little harsher than he intended to. He sees her from the corner of his eyes, her mouth slightly agape, her eyes round. He turns to her at a traffic light, and he immediately softens. "Sorry, Kens. It's just…I hardly ever wear this thing. I must have worn it more for official ceremonies than during my whole career. It's a cop thing. We wear it to pay our respects."

"It looks good on you", she admits, and she's glad the fire turned to green because he has to turn his head back on the road, and she can turn hers to the window, hiding as much as possible her pink cheeks. "How many times did you have to wear it ?", she whispers.

"Too many", he replies as quietly.

She never realized just how far away the cemetery was from her place, and as they're stuck in the traffic, she extends her hand to him, gently squeezing his knee. "You were right", she says softly, and he doesn't look at her, knowing just how hard it must be for her to say it. "I would have never forgiven myself if I hadn't come. Thanks." He just nods, not trusting his voice when her hand is touching him. "And it wasn't fair of me to let you deal with it alone. You're my partner, Deeks. I should meet you halfway sometimes."

Once, he was just a pawn in her life. Now, she just doesn't know how she can win this game without him. How she can make it through the days, though all of this, without him. He has made it through all the traps she put in his way, trying to push him away, force him to walk back and leave her alone. He's managed to make her want him by her side; need him, even. Once he was just a pawn, forced on her by Hetty, forced on her after she lost Dom, and today… Today she's stronger thanks to him; she's stronger not only because he thinks she's Wonder Woman, but because he taught her that sometimes, it's okay to go back to your true identity, and just be normal. No need to be strong and fierce all the time.

They remain silent for the rest of the drive, Kensi's hand never leaving his knee.

She tries hard to reciprocate the shy smiles and looks people send her way, from the watery smile Nell manages to make through her tears, to Sam squeezing her shoulder as she stands between him and Deeks.

She keeps a straight face as they put Hunter's coffin to the ground.

They never really liked her, but still, she was one of them. And it's harder than she thought it would be to keep the tears at bay, her bottom lip shaking as she bites down hard on it.

She can't hold it back anymore when the service for Hunter is done, and they move to the other grave, repeating it all over again for Renko.

If only she had known that he would die the next time they'd get to see each other, there are so many things she would have told him the last time they worked together.

So many things.

Things she never says to _anyone_. Things she never said to the person who matters the most to her, and who is standing by her, looking older and more serious than she has ever seen him. She's so used to his smile and laughing eyes, that she just doesn't know how or what to feel right now, seeing him with that stern look on his face, staring straight in front of him, taller than ever.

It's the uniform, too. It's kind of intimidating her, because she doesn't recognize him, _her_ _Deeks_, in it. And she's not sure she really wants to meet this guy, because her Deeks is a kind man who can make her smile anytime, not this Bizarro version of him who isn't pushing her like he always does.

He should try to wrap an arm around her and pull her into a hug, or get her to talk to him like he did a few days ago. He should be insisting.

But he's not.

So she does the only thing she can think about. Still biting her lip, tears rolling on her cheeks despite her best efforts, she reaches for his hand with hers, squeezing it before twining their fingers.

She doesn't let go for the rest of the service.

She doesn't let go when she finally turns to him, burying her head in his chest, her hot tears slipping through the fabric of his shirt. She doesn't let go when he rubs his free hand on her back in soothing patters, bringing her to him, holding her close. She doesn't let go when she feels his lips dancing in her hair and near her ear as he whispers sweet nothings.

And she believes him when he says everything is going to be fine.

She doesn't let go of his hand when they talk to Sam, Eric and Nell, apart from the other agents they don't know, friends and family they've never met. She doesn't let go and squeezes harder, when the techs tell them they still haven't heard from Hetty, nor do they know where she is.

She digs her nails in his palm when Sam says that the cops won't let him see Callen.

Deeks is the one to tighten his hold at his words, hating himself for not being able to do something, when they'd need him to do his liaison thing more than anytime else. When it's _his_ colleagues who arrested _their_ friend.

She drags him back to the car when people start leaving, but not after telling the guys they'll meet the next day to come up with a good plan, or just a plan. Something, anything. He looks at her, shocked at the urgency of her actions, and clearly waiting for her to speak.

But she doesn't. She just looks around, and when she sees that everyone is leaving, no one looking at them, she presses her body flushed against his, wrapping her arms tight around his waist. "God, I'm so sorry, Deeks. I'm so sorry…"

"No need to be sorry", he whispers, tucking her head under his chin as he hugs her close.

"I doubted you. I was so blinded by anger that I didn't see that you were all trying…I'm so sorry I let you down. I'm so sorry, Deeks."

He doesn't tell her that he has spent the previous days flicking through the pages of every law book he has, trying to find a loophole somewhere, something that could help their case. He doesn't tell her either that he has called for every favor, every debt, but that he hadn't managed to get to see Callen.

He doesn't tell her, because she doesn't need to know now. Not now that she has finally let him in.

So he just takes her hand back in his.

One move at a time.


End file.
